Falling(17)
But his plan would have to wait.
Bill opened his computer.
Carrie rocked Elise slowly, her cheek laid gently on top of the baby’s sleeping head. Scott stood beside her, his eyes now dry. Neither looked into the camera.
“Welcome back,” Sam greeted. “Here you go.”
An email pinged in Bill’s inbox.
* * *
“Hello there,” Jo said through a convincing smile, turning at the sound of the cockpit door closing and locking. “How’s it going up there?”
“Same shit, different day. Living the dream,” Ben said, stepping into the lav.
“You want anything to eat or drink?” Jo asked before he could shut the door.
“Just coffee, thanks.”
“How do you take it?”
“Two creams, one sugar.”
The lav shut and locked. Immediately, Jo grabbed the full pot of fresh coffee and quietly emptied it into the trash. Putting a new coffee bag in, she would wait to press the BREW button until she heard the toilet flush. She wanted to buy Bill as much time as she could.
* * *
“What is this?” Bill asked, reading the email. Alone in the cockpit, he was able to speak out loud without headphones and emails, and he did so quickly, knowing the conditions were short-lived.
“It’s a statement you’re going to record yourself saying,” Sam replied.
Bill continued to read, shaking his head. “But… what are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to send it to the news networks. Later. After the crash,” Sam said.
Bill’s high school history teacher had once showed the class grainy black-and-white films of American POWs in Vietnam reading forced confessions after having been beaten and tortured by their captors. Later that night, Bill was shaken awake by his wide-eyed little brother only to find his bed soaked and his voice hoarse after the prisoner’s hollow gaze had followed him to his dreams.
“I’m not reading this,” Bill said.
Sam glared into the camera. “Carrie,” he said, peeking into his mug, “my tea is cold. Would you please make me a fresh cup?”
Looking back and forth between Sam and the camera, Carrie tried to determine if it was a trap. Scooting her chair back, she said something to Scott that was garbled behind her gag. He seemed to understand, awkwardly maneuvering his napping sister into his arms as carefully as he could. He and his mother moved slowly, mindful of the explosives around her body. Carrie went to the kitchen, which was behind the computer, out of Bill’s view. Panic choked him at the sight of his children alone with their captor.
He wanted to scream at Scott to run. Take his sister and go to a neighbor’s house for help. Get away from the man, away from the explosives—and just as he was about to say that, Sam reached under his vest and pulled out a gun. He pointed it casually at the children. Scott wrapped his arms tighter around Elise.
“Bill,” Sam said, “have you ever heard the story of the tiger and the crow?”
* * *
Behind the galley curtain, Jo stared down at the bright screen of her phone, sending rapid-fire texts to her nephew without a proofread.
No, the FO doesn’t know and we are NOT telling passengers
Rest of the crew doesn’t know yet, will tell after break
No clue on what todo about gas. we’ll figure out something.
Don’t know what it is. Assuming it’s bad. Really bad.
have hazmat meet plane at JFK
In the lav, the toilet flushed. Jo pressed the button on the coffeepot. She knew that meant four minutes minimum, but she’d stretch it.
i’ll text when i can but things are going to get bsuy. for you too.
I love you Theo.
“That wasn’t a rhetorical question,” Sam said. “Have you ever heard—”
“No,” Bill said.
Sam smiled and leaned back in the chair. “There once was a tiger who was the king of the jungle. One day, a crow circled overhead, landing on a branch. ‘Tiger,’ he said, ‘please show me what your king eyes see.’ The tiger brushed the bird away, his powerful paw nearly taking a wing. ‘Be gone!’ he said. ‘I’m the king of the jungle. You’re too stupid to know what I see.’ So the crow flew away sadly.
“The next day, the crow circled overhead again, saying, ‘Please, tiger. Surely you must see such amazing things. Please, tell me what your king eyes see.’ But the tiger laughed, puffing out his broad chest at the poor little bird. ‘Why should you see what my king eyes see? You’re too small. Be gone!’?”
“Dammit, we’re wasting—” Bill said through gritted teeth. He stopped short, taking a breath as he clenched and released his fists. In a calmer tone, he said, “Look. Let’s just talk for a second—”
“So the next day,” Sam continued, “the tiger lay relaxing on a tree branch. Suddenly, it broke, dropping the king of the jungle into the raging river below. Helpless, he floated downstream. The crow appeared overhead. ‘Help!’ the tiger cried out to the crow. ‘Help me!’ The crow looked down at the tiger struggling in the water. ‘How could I help you, king of the jungle? I’m too stupid and too small.’ But then—”